


Belief Makes Things Real

by foreverfelicityqueen (stydiasredstring)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Deadly Premonition, F/M, Hurt, but also not really, i'm terrible about tags, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 21:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12021666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stydiasredstring/pseuds/foreverfelicityqueen
Summary: Lydia keeps having banshee predictions, but she doesn't want to acknowledge they're happening. Because the death she's seeing wouldn't just hurt, it would collapse her world around her.





	Belief Makes Things Real

**Author's Note:**

> You guys can blame Hannagh for this. It's also unbeta-d, because I'm lazy like that.

The visions started after the bullets ripped through Scott’s kitchen. After they watched their alpha and friend say goodbye to his father in a damp morgue, because he couldn’t be seen attending the funeral. 

It started in the hall. The lights began to dim, slowly at first and then they blinked out all at once. 

Whispers seemed to echo off the walls, finding its way to her skin and clinging there. That’s when she heard it, clear as anything she ever had. Gerard’s cackling over the this terror filled rumble. Like a thousand hearts breaking all at once. But as it came into sharp focus, she could only see one thing. 

“No,” she screeched, as Malia’s hand came to rest over her own.

“Lydia,” she looked around, on the defense for whatever Lydia was sensing. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I saw,” but she clamped her lips together. Because she couldn’t,s he wouldn’t give it more power. “Nothing, I'm just tired.”

“You sure that’s all it is?” Malia raised a brow, but her eyes drifted back towards the morgue doors. 

“Yes,” Lydia nodded. Because they had too much going on for her to fall apart right now. And she  _was_  tired. Tired and angry that Gerard was coming for her friends and family like this. She could shake off one train of thought. It was because of the attack and how close they came to losing one another, how one of her best friend’s had lost someone. It didn’t mean anything. 

But then why was her hand shaking against her side?

\---

The ticking followed her through as she stepped out into the cool night air. She needed to find away to breath, to get the fire of a scream out of the back of her throat. But every time she tried, ice filled her lungs and her head sway with the same image. 

She wanted to laugh at how illogical that was, the idea she could be burning up and turning to ice at the same time. But the swirl of voices pressed against her vision until she couldn’t fight the thoughts back any longer.

She could see some of the same things, Gerard triumphant over them, as Scott crumpled to the ground in  front of a pack of hunters, accepting defeat. Because he felt the same thing that had grown through her chest. The blood soaking her skirt and the hem of her shirt, as she tried to hold on to him, to keep him from slipping away from her. 

The pain in her grew into a hollowing ache, and she wanted nothing more than to obliterate everyone with a single deafening scream.

She opened her mouth, ready to let it go, when someone grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her out of her trance. 

“Lydia, what the hell?”

She shook her head, the images already fading from in front of her. Jackson was beside her, and she took in as deep a breath as she thought she could manage without falling apart. There was still a part of her that would never let herself cry in front of him again. 

“I just needed some air.”

“What’s really going on?”

She hated that he knew her well enough to tell that something was off. She even hated that a larger part of him cared now. She could use the old Jackson right now. Someone who’s only concern was himself. 

“I’m fine. So drop it,” she went to head back inside, but he caught her by the wrist, and she all but jumped at the contact.

“Whatever’s going on with you, if you can’t keep it under control, it will effect the rest of us. And Ethan and I didn’t come back here just to die for it.”

She should make him understand. She should tell him, or someone at least, that every crack she seemed to show was for the same reason Jackson was now preaching. She was protecting the only person she needed to make it out of this alive. It would break her in two if she lost her mom or her friends, but if anything,  _anything,_  at all happened to Stiles. She wouldn’t just break, she would shatter into a billion pieces. And she’d never be whole again.

“I know what I’m doing,” she hissed, pulling out of his grip. “And the last person who get’s to tell me how to be strong for my pack, is you.”

She didn’t care how harsh her words were. Because the shaking hadn’t just stayed to her hands this time. She felt it shudder through her whole body, and she dreaded the idea, that maybe this vision wasn’t just because she was tired. She was starting to fear, that it might be a look at things to come.

\---

It happened again. And this time the pain from holding back her scream was enough to have her doubled over on the ground, sobs coming in giant waves, and she couldn’t fight them off. She hated this.

“I got you,” Lydia tensed as Scott pulled her close to his chest. “Lydia, whatever it is, I got you.”

She shook against him, the pain and tears sending her into shock. 

It wasn’t true. It wouldn’t be true. She wouldn’t, couldn’t let it be. 

“I can’t,” she cried against Scott’s shirt. “I can’t stop it.”

He didn’t ask her what she meant, just ran one hand down her arm, as the other held her as still as she would go. Scott was, dealing with his own pain and his own conflicts, but still he sat there for nearly an hour, and held her until she finally stopped shaking.

She pulled herself from his embrace. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said wiping his hands down his pants. “Honestly with everything that’s happened the last couple weeks, I’m surprised you lasted this long without breaking down.”

“I’m supposed to be the strong one,” she tried to flash him a smile, but she was still fighting back images of Stiles’ eyes losing their spark. 

He shook his head, giving her a grin. “You remember the first real conversation we ever had?”

Lydia shot him a look. “No, and I really hope you don’t either. I was kind of a bitch back then.”

“I prefer to think of it as intense,” he teased. “But you told me that you didn’t date losers. Look how far you’ve come. You’re so much more than that girl who tried to hid behind her popularity. And I think we both have learned over these years that breaking down doesn’t make you weak. It just means you need someone to help remind you how strong you are.”

She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell someone about the premonitions and the world breaking images that kept her from wanting to go on. But Scott had lost so much. He was barely keeping himself going at it was. And she couldn’t give a voice to these thoughts. 

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on,” he said taking her hand in his. “But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She should tell him. She knew she should, but instead she nodded, giving him a smile. “Thank you.”

She pulled him to her again, hugging him as tight as she could, so he couldn’t see the tears that were ready to fall once again.

\---

Fear was in every step she took forward. She knew it was the Anuk-ite amping up the feeling that was already coursing through her. But things from her premonitions were flooding her senses. 

The fighting in the background, gunshots and smoke filling the warehouse. The pained howls of wolves and coyotes sending energy cascading through the air. It was enough pressure, enough stimulation, to push her to her knees. 

She could see it coming step by step. Scott would go for Gerard, he would miss, and when he did Gerard would take the spiked bat in his hands and swing right for Stiles. The impact would send him to the ground, but Gerard would hold on, until he heard each spike and barb bury itself into Stiles abdomen. 

She could feel it coming, and the scream in her was twisting and shifting into something different, something stronger. Strong enough to end everyone. Because that’s what they deserved. These people tore through her pack like they were nothing more than an infestation. And if this is how it would end for them, she would make sure it ended for  _everyone._

A hand fell on her shoulder and she tried to shake them off. She was done playing by the rules. She was through letting good people, werewolf or not, get cut down because they had to be the kind ones. She would end this war the way it started, bloody and all at once.

They weren’t leaving her alone as a hand fell on her other shoulder, halting her in place, but she couldn’t see who it was. Her vision was ablaze with fury and all she could make out was a vague shape in orange and blue. 

“Lydia.” 

That gave her pause, just enough to cock her head to the side. It sounded like... but that wasn’t possible, he was gone, wasn’t he? She had seen it, or felt it, deep inside. Stiles couldn’t be--

“For the love of god, Lydia, snap out of it.” His weight pushed on her, trying to hold her back, trying to keep her from moving closer to the fighting. “This thing is messing with your head okay? It wants you to kill everyone, that’s how it wins. That’s how it feeds.”

The Anuk-ite was messing with her, it was trying to throw her off her mission, to stop her from stopping Gerard. But how could it get Stiles so right?

“Lydia please,” he was begging her, his hands sliding down her arms until he locked their fingers together. “Lydia, look at me. Whatever it made you see, it’s not real.”

“You died,” she said as some of the fire drew back from her eyes, she still couldn’t see him, but she felt someone there. “They killed you, and now... Now I make them pay.”

“I’m here,” he said, pulling their intertwined hands against his chest. “Lydia, I swear to you I’m here and I’m real. That wasn’t me. It made you think it was, so you would do this.”

She focused on his voice, and how soft and persistent it was, how so very Stiles he felt. “But I saw it. I felt it.”

“I don’t know how to make you see me,” he sounded so lost, but he continued, slipping one of his hands from hers and resting it on her cheek. “But you need to see me. I need you to come back to me Lydia. There’s another way to stop Gerard without losing yourself to this.”

It was his fingers on her cheek, the warmth of his palm, that had the rest of the red fading from her eyes. And once she could see, really see, she let her eyes lock on his deep amber ones and she breathed deep. The first refreshing one she had had in weeks.

“Stiles,” she whispered pulling on his shirt until his lips crashed against her. 

She didn’t care that they were in the middle of a battle, she needed to feel him, in every space and every nerve ending. She needed him to fill her up and remind her what it felt like to be whole again.

“That’s my girl,” he smiled against her lips, then pulled back slightly. “I knew you’d come out of it.”

She let his face light the rest of the way out of the dark for her, pulling the pieces of herself back together. Then she glanced down at his shirt, and rolled her eyes. “Orange and blue. still not a good combination.”

“So I’ve been told.” He glanced over his shoulder, where the fighting had moved further away. “We gotta go meet up with Mason.”

He went to move forward, but she stayed in place. “Stiles.”

He looked back at her in confusion. “What is it?”

“I love you,” she said, pressing another kiss to his lips. “And whatever happens--”

“Lydia we’re not doing this,” he ran his hand down her cheek and tucked it under her chin. “We are making it out of this alive. And we’re gonna live at least another 80 years driving each other crazy, because I love you and I’m gonna marry you. And I need you to not just think it, but I need you to believe that we’re meant to make it out of this together. Okay?”

Lydia nodded, letting Stiles pull her along the outside of the warehouse. She wanted to dwell on that little phrase he stuck in the middle of his speech, but she figured it could wait until they at least neutralized the hunters. But it didn’t matter if he asked later or tomorrow or five years from now. She was going to say yes no matter what.


End file.
